


The House in the Woods

by Force_Sensitive_Timelord



Series: Midsomer Episodes [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Force_Sensitive_Timelord/pseuds/Force_Sensitive_Timelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jones' first case. The DCS comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

‘Morning!’  
‘Oh, good morning!’  
‘So, what is it this time?’  
‘A couple found strangled in their car. George is already here.’  
‘Good.’  
I walk with Barnaby over to the car in question.  
‘Tom!’ calls George.  
We go over.  
‘No Scott this morning?’  
‘No, he called in sick I’m on my own.’  
‘Oh, he’ll be sorry he missed this.’  
‘I’m sure,’ I say.  
‘The postman found them,’ says George.  
‘Ooh,’ I say, looking at the poor man.  
‘Garrotted,’ continues George, ‘Very popular at one time-‘  
‘At one time? The old house?’ I say. ‘Ignore that.’ I shake my head.  
‘-and why we all went off the Costa Blanca,’ finishes George  
We hear a laugh behind us and turn.  
‘And you are?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘Er, Constable Jones, sir.’  
‘Constable Jones,’ murmurs Barnaby and turns back to the car. He looks in the back seat. ‘Oh, they were house hunting.’  
‘Mm…’ says George.  
‘Whoever did this must have been waiting for them in the back.’  
‘Got in once they’d got out,’ I add.  
‘What do you think, Constable Jones?’ Barnaby didn’t hear me.  
‘Well, he could only kill them one at a time, couldn’t he sir?’  
‘He?’ I ask.  
‘Or she,’ he quickly adds. ‘So why didn’t the other one put up a fight?’  
‘Because they came back separately.’ I say.  
‘And if the other one was already killed before either one got in why didn’t they notice?’  
‘The woman’s head is turned away, so maybe the man didn’t notice,’ I suggest. And if it was slightly dark it might have looked like they were sleeping.’  
‘Unless there were two murderers,’ says Constable Jones.  
‘What? Both hiding in the back?’ asks George.  
‘No room,’ I say.  
‘If the killer did get in here, they must both have been out of the vehicle at the time, leaving it unlocked,’ says Barnaby.  
‘I’ve said that,’ I say.  
‘Oh, sorry.’  
‘Never mind.’  
‘But then they got back in-‘  
‘One at a time,’ finishes Constable Jones.  
Barnaby looks annoyed. I half-roll my eyes and look at the pages in the back.  
‘And he killed them one at a time,’ corrects Barnaby.  
‘I don’t think I could sit down next to a corpse and not know it, sir,’ says Constable Jones.  
Barnaby gives him a quick look then looks back into the car. I go round the other side to see the other perspective.  
They get the bodies out of the car and I look at both. They’re very pale, red round their necks. Warm clothes, may have been out at night. Constable Jones comes over to me.  
‘Ma’am I just found-‘  
‘Show Barnaby as well,’ I say and straighten up.  
‘Sir, I just found this in the glove box.’  
We reach Barnaby as he turns round.  
‘I thought it looked quite interesting on the back.’  
‘Maybe one of them had read it, got scared and came back to the car,’ I say.  
Barnaby turns it over. ‘Oh, yeah. The Feather’s Hotel, Causton. Yes, well done, Jones. Where does this lane go?’ he indicates the path.  
‘Er.. Some old house, looks derelict.’  
‘Oooh, excellent,’ I say and march off, both hurrying along in my wake.  
We reach the house.  
‘Oooh, it’s beautiful!’ I exclaim, ‘look at it! I mean, quite run down but it’s so cute! It’s absolutely amazing!’  
Barnaby and Constable Jones stop, look at me in slight disbelief then at the house.  
‘If you say so,’ mutters Barnaby.  
‘I do say so, come on!’ I hurry the rest of the way and peer in through a window hole.  
Barnaby and Constable Jones hesitantly go forward. Barnaby tries the door. It doesn’t open so they give up. I roll my eyes and peer through some more.  
The two of them continue going back. I’m about to go round the back to look for another door when I see Barnaby bending down to pick something up. I run over.  
It’s a little green car.  
‘Hm!’ says Barnaby. ‘Do you possess a suit, Jones?’  
‘Yes, sir.’  
I look between the two. This could work. But don’t tell me I’ll have to take Scott on.  
‘And a tie?’  
‘I do, sir, yes.’  
‘How do you fancy working with the CID for a couple of days then?’  
Constable Jones smiles and nods twice, ‘yes, sir.’  
Barnaby walks off.  
‘But there’s two of you, why doesn’t that work?’  
‘Barnaby likes having a Sergeant,’ I explain, ‘and I’m often not working on the same case as him.’  
‘Ah, I see. Wait, are you the DCS?’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Oh! I thought you were his daught-‘  
‘Yeah I’d stop there.’  
‘Sorry.’  
‘You better not be good,’ I say, grumbling. ‘In fact, you’d better be so terrible at detective work you only last today with Barnaby.’  
‘Why’s that, Ma’am?’  
‘Because if you are, you might end up with us all the time and then I may have to babysit you or Scott all the time.’  
‘You don’t have a Sergeant, then?’  
‘Hm! Heavens, no.’  
I continue down the path, the now Jones following.  
‘Or maybe it could work, he could have a Detective Constable and a Detective Sergeant. Something tells me that won’t work; I’ll end up with Scott.’

We arrive at the Feather’s.  
I let Barnaby arrange an interview while I grumble about the new arrangement with two Sergeants under my breath.  
A lady comes out.  
I let the first part of the interview to Barnaby but tune in when the questions start.  
‘They said they were house hunting.’  
‘Well, they wanted something special that they could do up and I told them about a house er, called Winyard in Midsomer Newton.’  
‘Er, forgive me but there’s not a For Sale sign up in front of the house, is there?’  
Jones shakes his head.  
‘So how did you know that it was for sale?’  
‘Someone said that Davis Estates had been there and I told them that it might be worth calling round, I was only trying to help.’  
‘I’m sure,’ I say, smiling. ‘Well, um, is there anything else you can tell us?’  
‘Not really, they were just about to leave, they were nice.’  
‘Well, thank you for your time and I’m sorry you had to learn about this.’  
She nods and we leave, heading for the Real Estate.  
‘Have you had much to do with the Estate Agents, Jones?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘Don’t trust them, sir. Any of them.’  
‘Ha! Don’t you?’  
‘Something tells me these ones may just deserve no trust,’ I say.  
Barnaby nods. ‘I like your suit,’ he says to Jones.  
We go in. There’s a couple talking to a lady with short black hair and a rather terrible demeanour.  
We wait for them to finish and let them pass. Then she walks up to us.  
‘Ms Davis?’  
‘Harriet Davis, yes.’  
‘Good afternoon. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, Causton CID, this is my Detective Chief Superintendent and this is acting Detective Constable Jones. Um, can we have a word please?’  
‘Of course!’  
A man walks in with two cups of coffee and hands Ms Davis one.  
‘It’s a Mr and Mrs Cave. I believe they came to see you yesterday morning.’  
‘Er, I was out yesterday. Roman?’  
‘Hm, I don’t remember them.’  
‘Yes, about a property you’re handling, em…’  
‘Winyard,’ I say.  
‘We have been instructed,’ says Ms Davis, ‘but I’m not holding my breath, it’s in a hell of a state.’  
‘Lovely build, though,’ I say.  
Jones looks at me quickly.  
‘Anyway, it’s hardly on the market yet.’  
‘Mr and Mrs Cave were staying at the Feather’s Hotel while they were house hunting,’ says Barnaby, ‘And they did say they were coming to see you.’  
‘I think I would have remembered,’ says Roman.  
‘Perhaps it’ll come back to you,’ says Jones and holds out a police business card.  
Grateful I let my hair out today, I smile into it.  
Roman takes it disgruntledly.  
‘You haven’t asked us why we’re interested in Mr and Mrs Cave,’ notes Barnaby.  
‘Parking?’ suggests Ms Davis rather horribly. ‘Overtaking on a double white line?’ Roman laughs slightly.  
I proceed to sneer slightly into my hair as well. ‘You’d need a Chief Inspector for that? A detective?’  
She gives me a horrible look. I ignore it plainly.  
‘Mr and Mrs Cave were found dead,’ says Barnaby, ‘only this morning.’  
Ms Davis’ smirk fades.  
‘Not 200 yards away from Winyard.’  
We leave them to stew on that.  
‘Not exactly giving it the hard sell, is she?’ asks Jones the second we are out. ‘Garden sheds go for half a million in Midsomer.’  
I laugh.  
‘And that suggests to you?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘She’s lying.’  
We get in the car, Jones reading the booklet on ghosts from the victim’s glovebox.  
‘Winyard’s got a whole chapter to itself,’ he notes from the back. I’ve got my iPad out as usual, going through the notes.  
‘In 1795, Margaret Peat hanged herself from a beam in the kitchen; 1820, child of three, missing for some days fished from the well, dead; 1916, two sons killed in Northern France-‘  
‘Not a lucky house then,’ remarks Barnaby.  
‘Apparently not.’  
‘No such thing as lucky,’ I say.  
‘We’d better take a closer look at Winyard,’ says Barnaby.  
‘Mm,’ I say, sifting through some photos of the bodies, ‘and maybe this time try a back door.’  
Barnaby looks at me briefly. I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head in a shrug.

‘Certainly got an atmosphere,’ says Jones as we walk round the back.  
‘Yes,’ I say shortly, ‘a poor old house that’s peacefully standing here, made to look eerie because of stupid humans and their accidents and superstitions. It’s got a tired old fed up atmosphere.’  
They both look at me and I shrug.  
‘Neglect,’ adds Barnaby as we round the corner.  
‘That too.’ I open the back door. ‘See? Honestly.’  
I lead the way in. The house actually has a very nice interior, though filled with mice. The furniture is quite nice and to my surprise looks fairly clean, much cleaner than I expected. Jones and Barnaby head off somewhere while I race about, looking at different rooms, memorising the layout. I come back down and the two have only just moved one room along to the kitchen.  
‘Have a look in here, sir!’ calls Jones.  
I hang back and decide to prove my point about something.  
‘It’s amazing that no-one’s tried to nick it all.’  
They go over to a piano. Barnaby plays with a few keys and pulls out a melody.  
‘Not in tune,’ says Jones.  
Barnaby nods. I could have told them that by the second note. Barnaby tries to play a note but it doesn’t work. He lifts the top up to see the small hammers. Jones shines the light in. Before Barnaby puts his hand in, I scratch the wall. Jones looks about.  
‘What’s that?’  
‘Probably-‘  
Bang! I hit the wall.  
I continue making creepy noises as I get closer. Then I leap and push Jones slightly. He freaks and turns round extremely quickly to see me.  
‘Jeez! Are you five?!’  
‘No, I’m proving my point. Only humans are making this house scary to themselves.’  
‘Fine,’ says Jones, quite peeved.  
‘Anyway, back to the piano,’ I say.  
Barnaby pulls out a cut piece of piano wire.  
‘Ah..’ I say.  
‘Perhaps this-‘  
‘Is where our murder weapon came from,’ finishes Jones, once again.  
‘Yes.’  
‘Why are you so quiet?’ I ask Barnaby.  
‘Because there’s no need to be loud when there’s no other noise.’  
I shrug and peer into the piano more.  
The two turn around.  
‘Do you think the Caves got this far?’ asks Jones.  
‘Well, not in this room,’ I say, peering even further into the piano, ‘there’s no dust movement apart from yours.’  
‘True. But if they did get into the house, maybe someone caught them poking around.’  
‘Mm.’ Barnaby checks the booklet. ‘Lesley and Barbara Flux. Find out where they live, Jones.’


	2. Part 2

We continue poking round the house until Jones gets a call back and we head off. We get out of the car at a small cottage and hear a lot of happy singing.  
Barnaby and Jones both look at each other in slight amusement.  
‘It’s just piano playing and singing!’ I say. I shut the car door. ‘And before you can say anything about piano wire, you don’t have to know how to play piano to open one up and take out the wire.’  
They don’t say anything and follow me up to the house.  
‘Ye are come well, ye are well come, ye are welcome,’ reads Jones. ‘What’s that about then?’  
Barnaby rings the bell. ‘It’s a generous sentiment.’  
The window at the top of the door opens and there appears the man we saw in the Estate Agents but wearing a large straw hat.  
‘Mr Flux? Mr Lesley Flux?’  
‘Yes!’ smiles the man.  
‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, my DCS and DC Jones. May we come in, please?’  
‘Yes! Come in!’ smiles the man and we walk in after he’s opened the bottom part of the door.  
‘Thank you,’ says Barnaby.  
The man takes his hat off. ‘My wife, Barbara.’  
‘How do you do?’  
‘How do you do?’ replies Barnaby. ‘I do hope we’re not interrupting anything, are you, rehearsing a play, perhaps?’  
I close my eyes disdainfully.  
‘No, no! Don’t you mind us!’  
‘Lovely song,’ I say stepping forward.  
‘Oh, thank you!’  
‘No, no we’re er, working on a new book-’  
Barnaby smiles politely.  
‘-Festivals of Midsomer.’  
‘We like to live in the spirit of the past.’  
‘And to live the past is to understand the past. If only we had the space.’  
‘We need a bigger stage. A house where we can bring full expression to our theories.’  
‘Like Winyard perhaps?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘Ah, yes, can I assume you visit’s to do with the murders?’ asks Mr Flux.  
‘You don’t sound very surprised,’ says Barnaby.  
‘You’ll expect it with a house like that!’  
All three of us raise our heads, urging him to go on.  
He turns and goes to get something behind him. ‘This is the problem of all the things at Winyard.’  
They take it out and lift it up.  
Jones takes it from him. ‘What is it?’  
‘It’s a human heart!’ says Mr Flux excitedly.  
I could laugh easily at the look on Jones’ face.  
‘You should talk to George Bullard,’ I murmur to him. Jones looks like he can’t quite believe his ears.  
‘It’s stuck with thorns and pins.’  
Barnaby and I are peering interestedly at it. I feel sorry for Jones.  
‘Hidden in the chimney.’  
Jones turns it slightly in his hand and gives both Barnaby and I a look that clearly says; ‘I’ve got no clue.’ I tilt my head slightly then continue to peer at it.  
‘The hearth is the heart of the house,’ says Mrs Flux. ‘Curse the hearth and you curse the house.’  
Jones is now holding it gingerly.  
‘The idea is to harm anyone living in the house.’  
‘And you took this from Windyard?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘We rescued it!’ says Mrs Flux. ‘Of course, we’ll return it as soon as the new owners settle in.’  
‘And you think this is the reason why Winyard has stood, empty, all these years?’  
‘Empty, but not deserted,’ says Mr Flux. ‘There’s still a presence, protecting the house.’  
Jones takes the conversation pause as an opportunity to pass the heart away. Mrs Flux takes it. ‘What from?’  
‘Well, you see what’s happened to Midsomer, hideous conservatries all over the place. Hacienda-style bungalows-‘  
‘And who’s behind this?’ asks Mrs Flux. ‘Builders and estate angents.’  
‘You were in Harriet Davis Estates this morning, you left as we arrived,’ says Jones.  
‘Ah, yes. Harriet Davis.’  
‘Lesley,’ says Mrs Flux.  
‘No, perhaps it needs saying. That woman has been systematically raping Midsomer.’  
Barnaby and Jones look like they can’t comprehend anything. I lower my head slightly, trying to.  
‘But she won’t get away with it for much longer,’ says Mrs Flux.  
‘Houses like Winyard have souls. They need to be loved.’  
Now this I can connect with. ‘Absolutely. Not treated as a haunted, horrible old place.’  
They give me a nod. ‘Nurtured.’  
We thank them for their time and leave.  
‘Thank you, sir,’ says Barnaby and we walk to the car.  
‘Weirdos or what?’ says Jones. ‘They seriously want that house, don’t they? The Caves had a copy of their book and they were at the estate agents this morning.’  
The piano music starts up again.  
‘What do you make of the ghost stories?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘Could be true, might not be,’ I say, ‘but one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t a ghost who killed the Caves. Why would a ghost need piano wire?’  
‘True. But they just want to sell their little books, don’t they?’ says Jones.  
‘And they don’t want anyone else to buy that house.’  
I groan at the pair of them and slip into the car. 

I’m about to go home when I notice Jones heading for Winyard House, so I get Barnaby to drop me off on his way back to Causton.  
‘I hope you’re not going to scare the hell out of him,’ says Barnaby.  
‘Of course not,’ I say.  
‘And don’t get yourself killed!’  
‘Relax!’  
‘Why?’  
‘Because I’m a DCS with an ID, a gun and extensive combat training. Besides, I’m not gullible.’  
‘Just go easy on Jones.’ The car pulls up  
‘Of course,’ I repeat, ‘I’m only investigating, after all.’  
‘How are you getting home?’ calls Barnaby as I go to shut the door.  
‘Jones can take me.’  
‘If you scare him he may not like that.’  
‘I’m sure, but he won’t get much choice.’  
Barnaby laughs. ‘Bye!’  
‘See you tomorrow!’  
He drives off and I quietly follow Jones into the house. He heads straight for the room with the piano. I see him putting some sort of device into a post and sneak round. I accidentally make the floor creak and wince. Poor Jones. He looks round uneasily, shrugs it off and goes out. I follow him quickly and just as he’s about to go out the door he stops and turns round suddenly, forcing me to crash into him.  
Jones yells and swings his arm round so I catch his forearm. ‘Jeez, keep it down, would you?’  
‘What?!’  
‘You’ll disturb the soul of the house,’ I say and shove him outside.  
‘Why the hell are you here?’  
‘Because I was looking for more of those toy cars like the one Barnaby found near the gate.’  
‘Why were you right behind me?’  
‘Well I didn’t want you to go, you’re how I’m getting home.’  
Jones grunts so I pat him on the back and walk down the lane to the car.

The next morning I bring Barnaby a cup of tea at his desk and am sitting with him talking about the Fluxs when Jones comes in.  
‘Have you got a minute, sir?’  
We look up to him standing with the device he put in the house in his hand. We both look at him closely then  
‘Ya.’  
Jones fiddles with the device I know take to be a recorder and puts it triumphantly on the table.  
‘Oh, so that’s what you were doing,’ I say.  
‘Yeah. And, we’ve got something.’  
A man’s voice “That’s a lovely bit of cheese-“  
‘Ugh,’ I say. They look at me. ‘I hate cheese.’  
“Are you having some?”  
Now a higher voice; a boy’s. “No, I’ve had my tea.”  
Barnaby and I are listening closely.  
‘I’d thought I’d do some ghost hunting,’ Jones explains to Barnaby, ‘I left this at the house last night.’  
He presses the fast forward button. We hear the piano playing.  
“Not bad. Sit up straight, though. Now, try again.”  
‘A ghost who gives piano lessons?’ says Barnaby.  
‘Could be our murderer, sir,’ says Jones.  
‘Yeah. And our murderer was a piano wire, wasn’t it? The boy didn’t sound frightened, did he?’  
‘I hope I wasn’t out of line, sir,’ blurts out Jones.  
‘If you were I would have stopped you,’ I say.  
‘Of course.’  
‘No, no, you were not Jones. Well done,’ adds Barnaby. ‘Look I think it’d be best if you go down to the school, find out who this lad is.’  
‘I’ll come,’ I say.

 

We pull up outside.  
‘They’re only children, Jones,’ assures Barnaby. ‘So be smart, be reassuring. I’ll pick you both up in about an hour, okay?’  
‘See you later,’ I say and hop out. ‘Come on, Jones.’  
Jones waits at the gates.  
‘Come on!’

‘Well?’ asks the teacher. She seems haughty and Jones looks ever so slightly out of his depth. He was only a constable yesterday. Now he’s filling in for Scott. I make a mental note to ring him up and ask how he’s feeling.  
‘I only said it for a joke,’ assures a boy in the middle in the second row.  
‘Well two people have died, Philip,’ says Jones. ‘Now I think you should tell the others that you made those stories up.’  
‘As a joke, of course,’ I add quickly, not wanting the poor boy to get teased.  
‘Will you do that?’  
‘I keep telling them there’s no such things as ghosts,’ says Philip.  
‘Good lad.’

We’re walking back out the gates to wait for Barnaby to pick us up with the teacher when Philip runs up behind us.  
‘Sir!’ he calls. Jones turns and is handed a small police car.  
This boy is clever.  
‘Where did you get this?’ asks Jones.  
‘Found it. It’s got a bell on it and it’s a police car.’  
Jones stares at him rather grumpily and hands him the car back.  
After Philip walks away, I stand on his toe. Hard.  
‘Ow!’  
‘Sorry,’ I say to the teacher, ‘we’re grateful for your time.’

‘I’m certain that’s the kid we heard on the tape, sir,’ says Jones.  
‘Oh don’t be daft,’ I say, ‘out of those in the classroom it was definitely him.’  
‘In which case,’ says Barnaby, ‘what was he doing at Winyard?’  
‘Well it wasn’t really the moment to ask him sir, but I’ve got his address. How did you get on with Davis?’  
‘That hag,’ I snap.  
‘Oh, she finally admitted the Caves had been into the office. But she told them she couldn’t let them view the house; it strayed instructions from the vendor.’  
‘She’s got another buyer lined up,’ says Jones. ‘Any money she’s on a backhander to make sure they get it, too.’  
‘Someone like the Fluxs perhaps,’ says Barnaby.  
‘Bit out of their reach, wouldn’t you say, sir?’  
‘Unless they’ve got some sort of a hold over her.’  
Jones looks at the green car under the windscreen. ‘Philip showed me one of these, too.’  
‘Proving that he’s smart,’ I say, ‘he’s telling us that it was him.’  
‘You must talk to that lad the first chance you get, okay?’  
‘I will.’  
‘And I shall come, too, I like that boy;’ is all I say. ‘Actually, I want to see the Cave’s hotel room, drop me off at the Feather’s, you can talk to Mr Magwood without me, I’m sure.’

I look round but don’t see anything in their room. Waste of time, then, so I have a cup of tea and a biscuit in a nearby coffee shop, waiting for the two of them to come pick me up. But then I see Philip getting off the school bus and running into the Feather’s. I see him appearing in the doorway a few minutes later, watching a man walk down the street. The only problem is, I didn’t get a good look at him. I consider going to talk to Philip, but decide he’d feel better and say more if he was talked to by Jones. 

‘Mrs Merrick?’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Er… Acting DC Jones… ‘ I tap his heel, ‘and my DCS, er… we spoke to Philip at school today,’  
She nods. ‘He’s in his bedroom, come in.’  
We step inside.  
‘I have told him. I don’t want him going anywhere near that house in the woods. That is why you’ve come to talk to him, isn’t it?’  
‘Yes.’  
Mrs Merrick walks back into the hall.  
‘Philip? Philip.’  
She comes back downstairs and into the kitchen.  
‘I am so sorry.’  
‘Just give us a call when he turns up. We need to talk to him urgently, Mrs Merrick.’  
The door behind us opens.  
‘Have you seen Philip?’  
We turn to find a boy older than Philip in the doorway. His brother, then, they’re the spitting image.  
‘No.’

I wait in the car while Jones and Barnaby go talk to the man Joyce is working with, going through notes.  
The two come out and stop outside the car while Jones gets a call. 

I’m in the car with Barnaby, going to Winyard.  
We go into the house and I notice food on the table; fresh. The music has been moved as well. There is also a tuning fork. Immediately, we rush off to get Jones. Jones gets in and the two continue their conversation.  
‘The man he was talking to on my tape-‘  
‘Philip?’ I ask.  
‘Oh, yes, I thought he meant it was Charlie Magwood. His Mum said the lad saw him at the hotel but Charlie didn’t recognise him.’  
‘So who is this man who leaves his tuning fork behind after teaching the boy to play piano, eh?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘Could have been Charlie, pretending not to know Philip but at the same time it could easily be any older man in a jacket,’ I say, fishing round in my bag for a bag of chips.  
‘Ooh, could I have one?’ asks Jones hungrily.  
A pause.  
‘Fine.’ I pass the bag behind me. Seconds later, it’s handed back.  
Jones crunches on one. ‘And, back to the case, is it the same person who takes wire out of the piano to garrotte Mr and Mrs Cave?’  
‘Why piano wire, though?’ I ask. ‘There’s no shortage of wire round that old house.’  
‘Easiest to get to? All the other wire is tangled,’ suggests Jones.  
‘Good point. Hang on… piano wire across the road…’  
‘What?’ asks Barnaby, confused.  
‘An old Home Guard trick from the war. In case of invasion. Maybe someone who was in the Home Guard…? Ignore that.’ I wave my hand about.  
Another pause.  
‘We should stake the place out,’ says Jones.  
‘Yeah, let’s see who else it attracts,’ says Barnaby.


	3. Part 3

We arrive at the Lux’s house and go round the back to find them weaving a basket.  
‘If you make any jokes about a basket case…’ I warn to Jones. He laughs and so do I.  
Barnaby chooses to ignore why we’re laughing and continue on. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, again,’ he says to the Fluxs, ‘would you mind?’  
‘Babs is in a tangle with her willow wands,’ says Mr Flux.  
‘Basket weaving isn’t easy,’ I agree.  
Mrs Flux smiles at me.  
‘There’s a couple of points I would like to clear up if I may,’ says Barnaby, ‘When a house gets a reputation for being cursed or haunted, it’ll have the effect of putting off prospective buyers, don’t you think?’  
Both look rather guilty.  
‘You have created just such a reputation for Winyard,’ continues Barnaby, holding up their booklet, ‘haven’t you?’  
Both are silent. Jones speaks.  
‘Did you kill Mr and Mrs Cave for the same reason? To discourage anyone else from putting in an offer?’  
Now they both look offended.  
‘No!’ says Mrs Flux.  
‘We’re not murderers,’ adds her husband.  
‘Sorry, we do have to ask,’ I say.  
‘Did you see anyone who might be?’ asks Barnaby, watching them closely. ‘Because if they saw you…’  
‘You’re not suggesting that we- th… that Babs and I are in danger?’  
I inwardly curse Barnaby’s lack of subtly.  
‘Just tell us who you’ve seen.’  
‘Do you mind if we go inside?’  
Mr Flux leads his wife in. ‘We seem to have got embroiled in something,’ she says as we go through the garden.  
‘We’re not used to this sort of thing.’  
‘All we wanted was somewhere we could cherish.’  
‘I told you, Barbara, we should never have got involved in it, we should never have trusted that woman!’  
‘Do you mean Harriet Davis?’ asks Jones.  
‘Yes.’  
‘How exactly are you involved with her?’  
‘We couldn’t afford Winyard at the price she was asking.’  
‘We knew what she was up to with the builder. She’d be handling a property and telling the vendor it wasn’t selling. Then she let the builder have it at a ridiculous price; he’d give it a quick makeover, double the price and then split the profit!’  
‘It’s the oldest trick in the book,’ says Mr Flux.  
We go inside.  
‘So what did you do?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘We went to see Harriet Davis and we suggested that she might let us have Winyard at a discount.’  
‘In return for keeping your mouth shut bout her other activities, yes?’  
‘Yes,’ says Mrs Flux in a sigh.  
‘You blackmailed her,’ says Jones.  
‘We… encouraged her to do something decent for once,’ says Mr Flux sadly.  
Barnaby breathes in. ‘One final question-‘ he hits the piano keys. They are horribly out of tune. I grimace. ‘-when did you last tune the piano?’  
They glance at each other. But I decide that the tuning of the old piano isn’t worth our time, there are worse cases of trespassing. 

‘Time to tighten the screws on Harriet Jones,’ says Barnaby as we get to the car.  
‘With pleasure,’ I say and hop in.  
‘Are you good for that, detective?’  
‘Oh, I say so, sir.’  
I smile, watching the two from inside the car.  
‘And I’ll talk to the solicitor, supposedly acting for Mr Magwood,’ adds Barnaby.  
‘You think he’s in on the scam, too?’ asks Jones.  
‘It’s the Midsomer Mafia, Jones.’  
They get in.  
‘Of course the solicitor is on it; any solicitor worth a quarter of their job would spot the problem with Ms Davis,’ I explain.  
‘They could just be really bad at their job,’ argues Jones.  
‘Yes, speaking of which, I thought I told you to be a bad detective?’  
Jones laughs.  
‘What’s that?’ asks Barnaby.  
‘Nothing,’ I assure him.  
‘Incidentally, who are you coming with?’ asks Jones.  
‘Oh, I am not missing Ms Davis for a solicitor.’

After switching to Jones’ car we arrive at a house Ms Davis is selling. She’s talking to a client couple, shaking hands. We watch her. The couple get into an expensive red car.  
Ms Davis walks up to us. Well, she walks up to Jones, anyway, and ignores me. Ha!  
‘Still acting, Constable Jones?’  
‘No, Miss. This is for real.’  
‘Either way, there are two detectives standing in front of you,’ I snarl.  
‘Well I’m afraid you’re too late to put in an offer on this one. I’ve just sold it.’  
‘Oh, well done,’ I say boredly.  
‘Oh, shame. I’ll have to keep looking! Won’t I?’  
Jones and I are both glaring at her. Jones slightly more pleasantly.  
She leads us inside.  
‘What about Winyard?’ asks Jones as we walk behind her, ‘any movement there? I was wondering if it had any interest from a Mr Giles Cato, curator of the Midsomer Museum?’  
‘I have had a visit from Mr Cato, yes.’ Ms Davis sounds very annoyed. I’m going to have fun.  
‘But his interest is purely in the conservation aspect.’  
I’m not sure I believe that.  
‘Meaning he doesn’t want it falling into the hands of someone like… Gerry Moore?’  
‘Does DCI Barnaby know you’re out on your own? Constable?’ Jones’ smile fades.  
‘He does,’ I say in a high, patronising tone, ‘but you can talk to the DCS if you prefer?’ I hold up my ID. ‘Obstructing the course of Justice is against the law. Now you can either stop wasting my and Detective Constable Jones’ time, or we can continue this conversation somewhere else. It’ll most likely be very quiet and rather small.’  
Ms Davis looks at me like she’s forgotten I’m a) the DCS and b) here at all. She soon recovers and glares at a corner in the room.  
Jones’ confidence has come back. ‘Mr and Mrs Flux told us their interests were purely in the conservation aspect, too. But that’s not true, is it?’  
Ms Davis turns away. ‘I’ve told you they’re fantasists, they come out of the woodwork whenever a place like Winyard hits the market.’  
‘But they’ve got you in a position where you’ll have to make them an offer.’  
‘I don’t know what they’ve been saying.’  
It’s getting to the point where I need to interrupt again out of frustration.  
‘Of course you do. Any offer you make them won’t be in the best interests of the vendor, will it? Does Mr Magwood know you’re about to sail him down the river so you can get yourself out of difficulty with Mr and Mrs Flux?’  
‘If Mr Magwood isn’t happy with the service he’s getting from me, he’s perfectly at liberty to instruct another agent.’  
‘Mr Magwood’s a pensioner, Ms Davis,’ Jones is speaking slowly. ‘And I think you and Gerry Moore saw him coming. An old man down from London and you thought he’d be a push over, didn’t you? Until Mr and Mrs Cave found the house of their dreams. Is that why you killed them? With the help of Gerry Moore, of course.’  
I watch her face closely.  
She looks fearful.

‘I’m not sure that went well, Ma’am.’  
‘You did fine, Jones.’  
‘But she-‘  
‘Jones, you did fine. Ms Davis is just a nasty piece of work.’  
‘Thank you for stepping in.’  
I smile. ‘It’s fine. I know you would’ve carried on anyway, but I couldn’t let you have all the fun.’  
‘I know but-‘  
‘Jones. You were excellent. Leave it.’  
Jones thinks for a second then nods.  
We drive along, him looking quite pleased with himself. 

‘Gerry Moore’s favourite, sir,’ says Jones as we meet up with Barnaby at the police station. ‘He and Harriet are definitely in it together.’  
‘So did Ms Davis confess?’  
‘Er, not on tape, sir. We should bring them in.’  
I smile at his eagerness, walking along behind them looking at Ms Davis’ sales records on my iPad.  
‘Well hang on; let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Jones, Charlie Magwood has got a brother.’  
I look up too quickly, lose my balance and crash into both of their arm’s. ‘What?!’ Jones steadies me as I balance again. ‘Now that thing with Philip recognising Charlie makes sense.’  
‘And Winyard actually belongs to that brother’ continues Barnaby.  
‘Ah.’  
‘Now I want you to go have another word with young Philip. Do you remember him saying the old man he meets up at the house used to go to his school?’  
‘You think that’s who he’s been stealing food for? Charlie’s brother?’  
‘Makes sense,’ I say as Barnaby nods.  
I head to the school with Jones. I’ve taken an interest in Philip.


	4. Part 4

‘It’s not stealing. They’ve got loads of food in there.’ I’m sitting opposite Philip, unconsciously cutting off his teacher. I wish she wasn’t in here, she’s haughty and to me a little to mean to Philip.  
‘Were you hungry?’ asks Jones.  
‘My mum hasn’t got much money,’ explains Philip, ‘it was lunches for me and Danny.’  
I smile. ‘That won’t work, Philip. Good try though.’  
‘I don’t believe you, Philip. And I know where you got that car you showed me.’  
Philip sighs. ‘There was this man in the playground.’  
Immediately; ‘What did I tell you?!’  
I look at Jones, annoyed. He then looks at the teacher and she falls silent.  
‘Go on,’ assures Jones.  
‘He said he used to come to school here when he was little. Then I went to the house in the woods. Cause my brother left my bike there.’  
I give a ‘T’ and raise my eyes to say “typical”.  
‘-and I saw him again. He said he used to live there.’  
‘Yes, he was an evacuee from the war,’ I explain.  
‘Oh. He’s really nice. He’s teaching me to play the piano.’ Philip pauses. ‘He never did those murders, I know he didn’t.’ He looks to his teacher. ‘I wanna go home now, Miss. See my Mum.’  
‘Thanks, Philip. But stay away from that house.’  
‘At least until the murders are solved,’ I add, ‘because it may not be just Jack that goes there, okay?’  
‘Understand?’  
Philip gives a slight nod. As we leave, I turn around. ‘Oh, Philip? We are the police, and this is serious. I know you like Jack and I know it’s a nice house, I like it. But if you go there again, you won’t just be in trouble with your Mum.’  
With that, Jones and I sweep out of the room and head back to the station.

We find Barnaby fiddling round with papers on his desk.  
‘It’s all here,’ he says. ‘And I’ve been onto Layfield Open Prison where Jack Magwood is serving a life sentence for the murder of PC Collin Armstrong.’  
‘The Hatton Garden Robbery?’  
‘That’s the one.’  
‘I remember reading about that case.’  
‘He absconded a week ago. There’s an all ports call-out for him.’  
‘Uh-oh.’ Jones and I exchange a glance.  
‘So,’ recaps Jones, ‘Winyard is owned by a convicted killer. He escapes from prison and a couple of days later two people are found murdered near his house.’  
‘I wonder,’ says Barnaby.  
‘What?’ I ask.  
‘I wonder if these two brothers aren’t one and the same, eh?’  
‘Hmm…’ I say, ‘it’s possible…’  
‘We’ve got uniform all round the hotel so tomorrow, first thing, we’ll go and ask Charlie if his name is Jack.’  
‘Good idea.’

My phone rings.  
‘Yes?’  
‘The DCI just rang me up.’  
‘Oh, hello Jones.’  
‘You’ve got to get to Winyard, Mrs Barnaby has gone there!’  
‘Joyce! I’ll be there as soon as I can!’  
‘He asked me to bring backup.’  
‘I’ve got it, hurry there!’  
I run into the hall. ‘Alan!’  
‘Yes, Ma’am? What’s wrong?’  
‘Get me a squad, now! We’re going to Winyard House! Hurry!’  
Alan runs off and two minutes later I’m in the police car with the sirens going.  
‘I don’t care about safe driving, this one car can go fast. Put your foot down as much as you need, Sarah.’  
‘Yes, Ma’am!’  
My car speeds away from the others and we are at Winyard extremely quickly.  
‘Stay here and organise the backup!’  
The constable nods. ‘Yes, Ma’am!’ she says then gets on her radio. I run down the path. Joyce’s car is here. I roll my head exasperatedly and tear down the lane. I stop outside the house and hear voices, quiet. I peer through the window to see Joyce, Philip and one of the Magwoods having a chat. Then I hear a car and see Barnaby tearing down the path.  
‘No, wait!’ But he’s crashed through the door.  
‘Magwood!’  
Figuring I might as well get Philip into a hell of a lot of trouble, I follow him in.  
‘Joyce, get that boy outside.’ Is what I hear.  
‘No!’  
‘No one’s going to hurt him,’ says Joyce.  
‘It’s all right,’ says Magwood.  
‘PHILIP!’ I yell, ‘You are in an extreme amount of trouble now GET OUT!’  
‘But he didn’t do anything!’  
‘I don’t care if the worst he’s ever done in his life is poke out his tongue, you have done something. Now. Get. OUT!’  
Philip scuttles out, followed by Joyce who doesn’t have time to look reproachfully at me. Jones appears.  
‘Right. Jack Magwood I am arresting you for the murders of Peter and Caroline Cave-‘ begins Barnaby.  
‘He hasn’t done anything!’  
‘Jones!’ I shout, ‘get him out, just take him away!’ Philip tries to struggle but Jones lifts him up and takes him outside.  
We get the handcuffs on Jack Magwood and send him off to the station.  
‘Philip can go, too,’ I say firmly, 'keep them separate, though.'   
‘He’s just a kid-‘  
‘Barnaby!’  
‘Oo, using surnames now are we, Ma’am?’  
In normal circumstances I would have rolled my eyes. ‘That boy has disobeyed police orders and has obstructed the course of justice! I’ll deal with him later.’


End file.
